Self Archaeology

I need to start piling stuff into suitcases again.

But I decided that this was the perfect time to rip out the contents of my room and strew them about the floor.

The room has now been in a state of destruction for the past 3 days, with me putting away something like 3 things each day. Yargh.


Something I invariably end up doing when I'm back in my room at home is what I term 'self archaeology'.
Sifting through the artifacts of the years I've spent on this earth.

Old diaries, lecture notes, scraps collected on travels, bits of childhood, letters, random 'junk'.

I'm quite a serious hoarder, I have to admit, and just can't bring myself to steel my heart and be 'ruthless' to throw things out.

This makes for a very full room.


Anyway, what I unearthed today were the journals I wrote for school way back when I was 11.

Two exercise books filled with my gawdawful and morphing handwriting.

Something like 90% of the entries featured my cat. xDD Strange little girl that I was.

And, flipping through them, I realised what an amazing lady my English teacher then was! She actually took the trouble to comment on all the entries, with little scribbled notes filled with humour and care. The teacher for the previous year simply arched huge ticks across the page without even correcting my mistakes.

I remember my Primary 6 teacher well. She was the one who was horrified at the distortedness of my handwriting even at that age, and made me copy out a book of my choice ('Martin's Mice' by Dick King-Smith xD) in parts to practice my penmanship. Harhar. ^^;
I don't really remember my exact feelings to this additional piece homework, but I do realise that she had gone beyond the requirements of the 'curriculum', and was motivated out of concern for the sorry state of my handwriting.

I really wonder where she is now. I felt a huge urge to contact her and express my appreciation, but google yielded no clues.

Anyway, reading my old journal filled me with poignant pathos, for the days that are long gone, for the cat who is no more, for the teacher who is somewhere out there, and for the girl who has gone far, far away.